


Kudoclasm Combined With Gnossienne Is Fulfillment

by FandomTrash



Series: gross percico cousin incest au that literally nobody asked for [5]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Cousin Incest, Drinking & Talking, Drunk Dancing, Hangover, Incest, M/M, Moving In Together, Moving Out, Neeks is 16 still, Paul is just, Perce is like 19 still i think, Sally is suspicious like any mom, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, almost, fuck if i know guys, i don't know law, mentioned - Freeform, so yknow, sorta - Freeform, yup this shit's still happening guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 19:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash/pseuds/FandomTrash
Summary: Time; stupid thing. Goes too fucking fast when you need everything toslow down, falls sluggish the second you wish for it to hasten its pace. But right now, it feels like it's racing by, this concept of time. Only slowing enough for me to appreciate the way the lights play on Nico's face.





	Kudoclasm Combined With Gnossienne Is Fulfillment

**Author's Note:**

> Kudoclasm:  
> Sometimes it feels like your life is flashing before your eyes, but it’s actually the opposite: you’re thinking forward, to all the things you haven’t done, the places you intend to visit, the goals you’ll get around to.
> 
> Gnossienne:  
> a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand.

“So Nico, how's school doing? Found a girlfriend yet?” Goddammit Paul. Nico shrugs, poking at the salad with his fork, “School's...it's okay. And, uh, no. Not that I'm looking for one.” I sigh, nudging his knee under the table. I hate family dinners. They've sucked since the start of time, and it's not like they've improved in recent years. He glances to me, from beneath those pretty eyelashes, before turning back to his plate. Mom watches me with these...unnerving eyes, I guess, sort of suspicious, maybe paranoid.

“In other news,” I stretch back against the chair, “I found an apartment. Just another month at the shop should do it, and I'll be out of your hair.” Mom frowns, saddened, before smiling, “That's good to hear honey. I'm proud of you.” Liar. She's just glad there'll be less of my baby around the place. Nico's shoulders slump a little, so I bump his knee under the table again. I smile at him, when he glances at me. This time, he smiles back

Dinner continues in relative silence. Cutlery clacks and scrapes against ceramic, but not much else. Somewhere along the line, me and my baby started playing thumb wars whilst we eat. Paul put a stop to that quickly. Finishing up, I glance to Nico – he's barely touched his plate, but that's nothing out of the usual. I'll take him out later, fatten him up with Ben&Jerry's and McDonald's. “Uh, mom? Can we be excused?” She glances at Nico's plate, but simply nods.

I sling an arm around his shoulders, and we make our way to my bedroom – “Why don't you boys watch some TV? Y'know, be sociable with the family?” _Y'know, so we can keep an eye on you?_ Sighing, I roll my eyes. Baby, my sweet boyfriend, he slumps a little at the request, but easily turns us around and guides us to the couch. We sit next to each other; shoulders to knees, but nothing more than that. He flicks on some random channel. Supernatural, maybe? Or Doctor Who? I don't know. Don't really give a fuck, either.

“What's up?” I whisper, glancing down at him. He curls his knees to his chest, shrugging, “Nothing.” frowning, I turn to look at him, arm on the back of the couch. My face if obscured this way, from mom and Paul's prying eyes. “Babe,” I mutter, but he doesn't look at me. Fucking – he _closes his eyes_ , hides his face in his knees. “Nico, talk to me.” He slumps against me, still curled up.

With a sigh, he glances up at me. Big eyes, frown, almost...scared? “I just -” He shakes his head, glancing over the back of the couch. Right. Supervision. “Tell me anyway, Nico,” I encourage, knowing full well that they can't hear me. The television's volume is up too loud. Nico shrugs again, “I won't see you anymore.” I furrow my eyebrows, “Who told you that?” He shrugs again, hand doing this adorable little gesture thing that means he can't make out the words. “Well – you'll...you'll be gone. Busy, being an adult. And I'll...be here.” _Alone._

It comes out fast, rushed, heart messily jammering away, “I was going to ask you to come with me, Nico.” I was gonna ask him later, but better just get it out there before he starts feeling isolated and alone. ~~Not happening again~~. He blinks up at me/

All pretty and surprised, as if the idea had never occurred to him. Small, darling, “Oh baby,” I coo, “Did you think I'd just leave you?” He shrugs, wraps his arms around his knees, “I...” He shrugs. I ruffle his hair, even though I want to kiss him breathless. Just those lips on mine, press against them, bite them 'til their red and bruised and glossy in that way that always makes my breath come out strained.

I stand, “Wanna go somewhere?” He blinks up at me, bewildered. I grin, nodding, “Yeah, I think we should go somewhere. C'mon, get your nice clothes.” Ushering him to the bedroom, I wait outside. Not to rouse suspicion. And it'll get mom a little buttered up to let us leave. (“Isn't it a little odd you guys still share baths and change in the same room? You're nearly an adult, Percy, I don't think you'll drown unsupervised.”) Yeah. It'll be good to move out of here. Soon. With Nico.

He skittles into my bedroom, and I close the door. But he pulls it back open, “Which ones?” I shrug, “Y'know. Your _nice_ clothes.” I smirk, waggle my eyebrows. It brings a smile to his face, makes him giggle lightly. Perfect. That's how I want him to be all night. He closes the door again. Mom comes around the corner, curious if not concerned, “Honey? Where'd Nico go?” I nod back to my door, “Getting dressed.” It implores another more discernible look from her. I elaborate, if only tightly, “We're going out."

Mom gives me an unimpressed look, “Just because you're moving out soon doesn't mean you're old enough to go drinking, Percy. Especially with Nico. A _minor._ ” I roll my eyes, “We're going to meet with Jason. Y'think he'd let us anyway?” She sighs, leans on the wall opposite me, “Percy..."

A minute ago she was encouraging me to be an adult. Move out, have a stable job, blahblah. Now she's criticizing me because I'm too young. What the fuck? Talk 'bout mixed signals. I huff, cross my arms – totally not defensive – “Mom, we were just talking about me being independent and moving out. What do you think you're getting at now?” And, okay, yeah, that was harsh. But fuck it. Fuck it all. I want my baby and I want that little apartment that doesn't really have the best feature and is a little bit of a fixer-upper but with TLC it'll be good as new in no time. I want it now. Fuck.

Looking up, she's blinking a little. Then she narrows her gaze, sets her jaw and huffs, “Is that how you speak to me?” I shrug, stone-faced and quite utterly _pissed off_ , but that's not her problem. “It was uncalled for. Sorry.” It's a shitty apology, far from sincere. Both of us forget about it when Nico steps out of the bedroom. Gods, he's fucking beautiful.

Skinny jeans, low-cut shirt and that black choker with the silver ring that settles just above his collarbones. He's got his leather jacket folded over his arm, like the polite little boy he is, and his boots in the other hand. “Excuse me,” He easily glides past us tot he bathroom. Mom huffs, and walks back into the kitchen. I think, anyways. I watch Nico linger a little, watching mom abscond. Then Nico hums, and disappears into the bathroom.

I make quick work; jeans, tight-fit shirt, that cologne that makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. The one that he insists he gets to dab a little behind his ears with when I'm away, the one he likes ingrained into the bedsheets. I smile at the thought, humming to himself. I go to join Nico in the bathroom. The hallway's dark, and the short few steps to the bathroom are like dragging my feet through cement. Heavy, weighed down. I huff when I finally step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, “Heya baby."

He meets my eyes in the mirror and smiles. He hasn't noticed my attire yet. Good.

Standing behind him, I brace my arms on either side of him and nuzzle his neck, “You okay?” He nods, playing with his hair, “Where're we going?” I hum, nip his ear. Nico chirps adorably, angling his head (neck exposed, willing, and dear gods – it's a turn on.) “Just to a bar – maybe a club, if you'd like. Someplace loud.” He purrs at the idea, but I can already imagine what he must be thinking with the opportunity.

In the bathroom – skin on skin, hot breaths, condensation on the cubicle walls, hands gripping his ass hard enough to leave bruises, neck marked up and the sounds from his mouth like honey.

I clear my throat; he smirks at me in the mirror. I find my face a little pink, as is his, but I feel that he pulls it off better. That complimentary softness to his sharp edges, the way the color settles beneath his skin like a haze over the peak of his cheekbones. It's picturesque – I suppose that's the word: beauteous; beguiling. Pretty, in short. Lovely, dear and darling. My little darling, my beautiful baby, “God, you're so fucking hot.” Eloquence at its finest, ladies and gents. Nico snorts, amused, and gently elbows my stomach, “Behave, tesoro." 

Snickering, I watch him 'tease' his hair and whatever. It's cute, whatever it is he does with it. I keep distracting him; pepper his face with kisses, mouth softly at the place where his neck becomes his shoulder. He lets out these noises, though, I can't help it. Sweet, chirrup-like sounds; like a satisfied little squeaky thing. Bunny. That's what I'm thinking of. Bunnies. Little fluffy bunnies that twitch their noses – purring, chirping, squeaking and quietly talkative in a way that can be deceived as plaintive. Now just watch him 'bonk' me.

Nico's got his pale fingers in his hair, still. I say it like it's been forever, but I only just stepped into the bathroom. Still pressed up against his back, still half-pinning him to the counter. It's magically gained volume, his hair, wild in a _just got fucked_ look and it's not far off from the real thing. I'll fix that later, I think. Yeah; I'll make it more authentic when the beat of the music is so loud it rattles through our bones and the only thing on his mind is  _me._

After I dig my teeth into his skin ever so slightly, he turns and bumps his forehead against me. _Bonk_. Smiling, I raise an eyebrow, “What?” He huffs, “You're distracting me.” I lean in close, hook my finger into the ring of his choker – give it a tug, “I can be more than distracting, y'know.” Heat rises to his face again, this time with a vehemence. “Save that for later,” He reluctantly mutters.

Grinning, I pull back and let him shuffle around. Tug his shirt, fiddle with his jacket. Then he pulls it on, toeing into his shoes, “Ready?” I nod. I watch as his dark eyes drop to my shirt (the broad expanse of my chest, how tight the frabric is.) Snorting, I tug him along, C'mon, bun-bun.” He scrunches his nose, “Bun-bun?” I nod again.

“We'll be back at some point!” I call, and grab my car keys from the bowl. Then we leave, before protests can be heard. Nico appears to vibrate on the spot as we make our way to the car. There's a bounce to his step that makes his hips sway; he's excited for some time out of the apartment. Not that anything was keeping him here. (Me. I was keeping him here; how wrong of me, keeping him caged up for so long. Time out should do him good.)

* * *

Colored lights that don't do much for the darkness of the place; the bar stands out like a sanctuary for the needy. Nico immediately glues himself to my side as we step in, though still alluringly aloof and putting off that vibe of **bad boy** that everybody seems to gravitate towards. We look hot, together, I think. In blacks and dark blues, silver to, hair mussed and let's be fucking honest; if you have a hot friend, you by default, also appear to be pretty hot. (Nico is the hot friend.)

The music is this weird sort of mix between bass and ambient sounds – Lofi-Chill or whatever the fuck is the new rave – but what is supposed to be soothing is violently loud and deafening. Nico guides me to the bar. Over the music, he says something, orders us drinks, but I don't catch a lot of it. Bodies grind against each other out in the lights, the dance floor being this square made up of other squares that blink and flash different colors in sequence. They're all hot and sweaty already; lust, sex, laughter in the air. Nico nudges a drink into my hands – bottle; cold, chilling, smells like beer. Upon chugging half of it, I note that yes, it is indeed just beer.

Nico has two fucking martinis in his hands.

One's got a lime wedged on the rim of it, this toxic-pink pigment to the alcohol and the smell is so strong I can't tell if it's from that glass alone or from the both. The other has a lemon; got some sparkly shit on the rim, too, with ice and is at least a regular color. Catching my eye, he does a cute little swivel thing with his hips before clacking his glasses together. He puts them both to his mouth and expertly drinks them both in unison.

There're this cluster of girls nearby; blonde, brunette, redhead. All trying to show off what they don't have, giggling and tittering. Their eyes – all blue, strangely – on Nico as he sets his now empty glasses on the table. Then they have their eyes on me, as I laugh loudly. “Slow down, Nico, you'll be drunk within an hour.” He shrugs, licks his lips in that enticing way and grins at me, “But you like me drunk.” I do, because he's not a messy emotional drunk.

Nico drunk is basically just Nico with a more salacious sex-drive. You can't really tell when Nico's drunk. He's still sweet and cute – sexy and hot. All the things that he would have normally; except his self-consciousness is lowered. He'd let me fuck him on the bartop. In the bathroom is where we'll most likely end up doing it tonight, though. As much as he wouldn't be opposed to the idea, I despise the fact that anybody would look and see him so debauched and precious – something only _I_ am allowed to witness. I near him, rest a hand on his waist and squeeze:  _hard._

He grunts a little, smirk still prominent and confident. “Yeah,” I tell him, “I fucking love you drunk, baby, but these people don't deserve to see you in such a state.” He chuckles softly, before signaling the bartender over. Cheeky little fucker. Bartender slides another fancy looking beverage over to him. One whiff and I can tell it's vodka. I pry it from him, as he frowns at me, and press my beer into his hand.

The girls giggle some more, and their eyes on us are getting annoying.

I step closer to him, slot my thigh between his so I can lean against him a little. I prop myself up against the bar behind him, but ultimately just plaster myself to his side; mouth directly to his ear. “What's intimidating you, hm?” He asks. I scoff, gulp down the vodka. Burning. Eugh. Not a fan of vodka. Nico likes it, though. Nico likes anything with a high alcohol concentration.

Then suddenly Nico is yanking me down by my shirt and our teeth clack together at the sudden action. I muffle a soft chuckle, feel him arch his back in order to line us up; knees to chests and then some. I leave the glass on the bar-top, the usage of my free hands coming to grope at him. One at his face, keeping his mouth to mine whilst I lick my way into his mouth. The other rests heavily on the just-there curve of his hip, digging my blunt nails just under the waistband of his pants. He hums sweetly, delectably, all docile and lovely.

“Gods, Nico -” He pulls away, bats his eyelashes, and takes a long sip of my beer. I don't watch his throat bob. I don't. His hands curl into my hair, more gentle noises being swallowed up. I'm surprised I can actually hear him, over the music. But then again, I've always been attuned to him.

The girls' stares stop irritating me as much. They're quiet, from what I can hear, but they still watch. But then Nico's hand drops to my shirt, scrabbling at what he can – I regret wearing a tight shirt now. There'll be no leverage for him to grasp when I pin him to the wall of a cubicle. Fuck. The disappointment only lasts a few seconds, because then Nico is dragging me out to the dance floor.

Lights in his hair make it glitter like something fairy-like and pretty, and his face is splotchy in a delicate way. Eyes already hazed, breaths heavy, hips swaying to the beat and he's got himself interlocked with my own frame. The only option is to just fall slack, mesmerized like every time. People around us bump and graze each other, the place is so ridiculously crowded, but I can only keep my eyes on Nico.

Lost in the music, as slow a beat as it is, this almost sensual pace that has him humming along and shifting in this graceful series of motions. And then there's this large hand on his waist, but before I can even act, he's twirling out of the guy's grasp and into my arms. Smiling, we start moving together, this lazy pace that everything else has been lulled into. I get why it's called 'Chill-Jazz' now. He hums and grinds occasionally, eyes low-lidded like the little deviant he is and _goddamn_ he's doing that thing with his mouth on my neck  _fuck._

“C'mon,” I mutter, hands on his hips, tugging him to the darker corner. There, I cage him against the wall and hum at the feel of his arms around my neck. “Hey,” Nico mutters. All I can do is duck low, and trap him against the wall, dragging him into another kiss. Pulling back, he laughs softly, wets his lips. They shine, in these colored lights, and I've never thought that yellow would ever be his color. He looks golden. “Ready for a fun night?"

“By that do you mean drinking until I can't stand?"

“Nico, I'd pass out before that happens."

“It's gonna be a long night, then.”

* * *

“ _Fuck_ ,” He keens; his head knocks back against the stall door. I grin, suck at that patch just behind his ear, “You like that?” Nodding, he jerks his hips more into my hand, “Percy, c'mon -” I chuckle, “What? What do you want me to -"

“Do _something_ already, I – I swear to gods!"

I smother a noise into his neck. “But baby,” I drawl, feeling him squirm, “I like teasing you.” The whine he gives is too much; “Oh, Nico -” Nico whines again, nails digging into my shoulders, “ _Percy, please!_ ” Huffing, I pull back, rest my forehead against his, “Since you asked so nicely.” There's this long sigh of relief, as I start to sink to my knees, tugging his jeans further down. I pause, “But I don't want to ruin your nice jea -” Nico squirms more, looking ready to just grab himself, but I grip his hips tight and hold him steady.

“What do you think we do to stop it?” Nico mewls when I lick a strip from balls to tip; a pretty sound. “Swallow it? Or – just... _fuck I don't know, Percy._ ” Humming, I swallow down as much as I can, swirl my tongue once before pulling back, “I think I like that idea.” Going down again, I watch how his face falls slack, wiry fingers coming to curl in my hair. Not tug or pull, no, he's too gentle for that. Too soft, too kind.

I let go of his hips, moving my hands to grip his ass. I drop one of my hands to find that little – ah, there it is. He always keeps a little bottle of lube in his shoe. Fumbling a little, I push too far forward and choke. Immediately, he's pulling me away, and I hadn't noticed the noises he had been making until he stopped. His dark eyes are all big, wide, blissful but concerned. I nuzzle into his hand, before taking the time to warm the lube on my fingers before tugging his jeans down to his knees, underwear included.

Nico returns to jelly-kneed and moaning when I wrap my lips back around his cock. I snake my hand around to his ass, nudging my fingers against the hot furl of muscle there. I chuckle around him when he stutters, unsure of whether to press back against my fingers or delve deeper into my mouth.

It's a good fuck.

* * *

“Shh – shh!” Nico hiccups, hand lazily to his mouth and gods has he ever been this pretty? Maybe. (Of course he has.) “No, you _shh!_ ” I giggle, stumbling against the door. He murmurs something – I – I don't know what. He says something though, and it sounds like honey. I like honey. Honey's sticky, syrupy – I call Nico honey sometimes. Like – like in the movies, y'know, if I come home from work and he'll be all there in that stupid frilly apron the wife always where's an' he goes -

“Bed.” He murmurs. I giggle again, “Bed?” He nods, reclined against me, playing with my hair. Smiling, I nuzzle his hair. We stumble into my bedroom, and I don't really care if I wake up mom and Paul. They were jerks earlier. That's the word. Is that the word? Jerk. Sounds weird. “J...Jeeeeeeer – ck. Hm.” Nico falls onto his ass with a yelp, blinking up at me rapidly, “Jerk?” I – I'd like to jerk, y'know what I'd like to jerk?” He snorts.

I drag him to my bedroom (no, I did _not_ walk into the couch, thanks.) I think by now we've woken up mom and Paul but I don't really care. He squirms out of his jeans and his jacket, but stops short and stares down at his bunched up pants around his ankles. Shoes still on. I snort, untying his shoelaces, “Silly. Silly silly.” Nico grumbles, hiccups, falls back on the bed. I shut the door before sliding down against it, “Ugh.” I don't feel so good. Think I'll be fine.

Toeing off my shoes and throwing me jeans somewhere into the corner of my room, I fall onto the bed. And Nico. He yelps and flails under me, until I move. I giggle, brushing hair from his face, “Sorry, babe.” Nico, he huffs, pretty little thing. All pink-faced and glazy eyes I wanna kiss him but I shouldn't cus gotta be careful.

I curl up 'round him, pull the comforter over, “Nite.” He hums, relaxing easily against me, “G'night.”

* * *

“Watcha think?” I ask, waving my arm around a little. Just visiting the new place; landlord says it's fine for people to go in and look around, I guess. Totally gonna get this place, though. Nobody's gonna want it. Nico hums, leaving my side to go explore. It's pretty bare; peeling wallpaper, tattered carpet. It's got large windows though; lots of natural

I wince a little, rubbing my temple. Fucking hangovers. Nico was smart enough to down some the second he woke up. Speaking of; he stares out the window above the kitchen sink. I say kitchen, but it's more like a kitchenette sort of thing. Not even that. Whatever. He seems to like it, though. Walking over, I curl around him, rest my chin on his head. “I like it,” He mutters, leaning back against me. I rest a hand on his hip, watching him groan and squirm a little. I hitch up his shirt, looking proudly down at the fingerprints that glare back at me in blues and purples, “Sorry.” I'm not. He knows that.

Nico huffs, kisses my cheek anyways, “No you're not."

Grinning, I look around, “You okay with the lack of bedroom?” He nods, “Hey, at least it's not the bathroom on display.” True. I hum, nodding, “Gonna be a while before we move in here, though.” He nods again, turning around to face me, “I know. I'm fine with that.” God I have the best boyfriend. Still, “You sure? I can find somewhere else, if -” Nico kisses me, smiling charmingly and darling-like. “I love it, Percy.” And all feels right with the world.

The floorboards creak as we wander to the lone couch left behind by the previous occupants. We sit on it, Nico rocking a little at the jostle of me falling onto it. “It's not California,” I tell him, “But it's far enough. For now.” He reclines against me, head tucked just under my chin. Soon, he'll be a little too big to sit comfortably like that. _Shit._ I squeeze him tighter, nose in his hair. Rich soil and apples. Spices, too, but mottled with the aftermath of alcohol. “I don't need California, Perce,” Nico tells me, dark eyes so bright, smile on his face and that pretty little mouth against my neck, “I don't need California, Perce.”

Chuckling, I raise an eyebrow, “No?” Shaking his head, he curls up all the more. I'm starting to think that no matter how tall he grows, he'll always fit against me just right. “Then what do you need, Nico?” He kisses his way along me jaw, whispering, “You.” I feel like fucking putty in his hands.

Rolling over, I pin him to the couch, “Yeah?” Nico nods. He bares his neck so prettily, familiar smirk on his face and the tender moment gone. It feels right. Less vulnerable. Us. “How do you need me, huh?” I lay on top of him, watching him wheeze a little. His hand finds my hair, fingers curling to knot it in his hand and tug. “In any way you'll give me, Perce.” I chuckle, bopping his nose with my finger, “I think I can give you that.” That, I am confident in.

And I guess my Happily Ever After's coming true.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I wrote this on my phone? In a car. On dirt roads. Sorry for mistakes, sorry that this is weird and not following the same characteristics our bois have possessed in previous parts of this series. But yeah, uh. Hope you enjoyed? 
> 
> Also: guess who's gonna rewrite that damned four-chaptered story he's left to rot? ^^ _this guy_ (At some point.) Not taking it down, cus I'm LAZY and can't be assed to rewrite all the damn tags. so just keep an eye on the chapters, i guess, I'll probably change the title a little bit too. ugh. 
> 
> ALSO Also: it's short. and choppy. but when the fuck is anything i write _not_ short and choppy?
> 
>  _ALSO_ ALSO also: for those of you who had the misfortune of reading this shit with unfinished paragraphs, it should be fixed now. Sorry for the inconvenience.


End file.
